


new friends, old books

by a_ufo_party



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Canon Compliant, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa 2019, Fluff, Friendship, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_ufo_party/pseuds/a_ufo_party
Summary: On his last day at the academy before winter break, Fitz decides to visit a bookstore that he has been admiring from afar since it opened. To his surprise, Jemma Simmons (his former rival, now...friend?) accepts his invitation and joins him on his shopping trip.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	new friends, old books

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TomatoBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomatoBookworm/gifts).



> Hello and happy holidays from your Fitzsimmons Secret Santa!! I really hope you enjoy this incredibly fluffy little fic <3

The store appeared in late autumn, seemingly out of nowhere, tucked neatly between the local cafe and music shop. Fitz noticed it immediately, with its warm, glowing windows, and inviting name, “Tales and Treasures Bookstore,” but he could not seem to find the time to go inside. Between the six classes he was taking at the academy, and trying to keep up any semblance of a normal sleep schedule, shopping for pleasure was placed on the backburner. Still, he passed the little shop on his way to and from Hall C every Tuesday and Thursday, pledging to visit as soon as winter break began. 

The temptation grew greater after Thanksgiving had passed, when the streets were covered with a soft sheet of snow and the gentle sounds of Christmas piano music drifted from within. Flickering candles found their way into the windows, and a wreath made of crumpled pages hung on the door. 

_ “Two more weeks,” _ Fitz thought to himself as he trudged past on his way to an exam.

Then,  _ “One more week.” _

Then, _ “Tomorrow!” _

And before he knew it, his finals had passed, and he found himself standing in his dorm, suitcase packed, plane ticket by the door, with one more night at the academy...

_ “...snow is picking up. We are now getting reports of up to two feet of snow, so folks it looks like it will be a white Christmas after all. But for those listeners who hope to travel by plane within the next twelve hours, a word of advice: start looking for alternate flights-” _

Fitz turned off the radio with a click, pulling his warmest coat over his arms and adjusting his hat. It must have been a habit of growing up an only child with a single mum, but Fitz never left the house in the snow without being fully prepared. 

Hat? Check. 

Scarf? Check. 

Mittens? Check. 

He was ready. He had a $20 in his pocket in case he found a book he couldn’t pass up, and a night free of homework or obligations. 

Smiling softly to himself, he opened the door of his apartment and turned the corner-

Nearling running over Jemma Simmons.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, stumbling back into his doorway.

“Fitz!” Simmons said at the same time, her voice exasperated. “Excuse me.”

“No, ‘scuse me, I wasn’t looking where I was going-”

“Where are you going? The arctic?” Looking him up and down, she lifted her eyebrows. 

Noticing the suitcase in her hand, he cocked his head. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I  _ was _ going to the airport, but I’ve just learnt that my flight home was cancelled.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It has been rescheduled, so I’ll make it home for Christmas. I was just so looking forward to getting a break from this place.” 

Fitz nodded, leaning against his door frame in a pose he hoped looked relaxed and cool. While he no longer considered her to be his arch rival (rather, he now saw her as a friend,) he could not shake the old habit of constantly wanting to impress her.

“Well? How about you?”

“What? Oh, I’m going to check out the new bookstore. Well, not new, but um, new to me...the one by the cafe.” 

At this, Simmons’ eyes lit up. “Ah! Tales and Treasures!”

“You’ve been there?”

“No, not yet, but it certainly looks inviting.” She grinned, setting off a warm spark in Fitz’s chest. “Well, I suppose I ought to return my suitcase to my room, seeing as I will not, in fact be traveling today. I hope you have a nice time, Fitz.” 

She started down the hall.

“You can-” Fitz cut himself off with a cough. His voice had come out as a squeek, far too eager and loud.

Still, Simmons stopped and looked over her shoulder questioningly.

Clearing his throat, he continued, “You can, um, you can come with me, if you like. Seeing as you’re not doing anything tonight...” 

“Really? You wouldn’t mind the company?”

“Yes! I mean, no.” He shook his head, blushing, “Yes really, and no I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Alright then. I’ll just go drop my suitcase in my room and I’ll be back!” She smiled, a dancing, excited sort of smile, before once again walking down the hall. 

And Fitz smiled too as he finally relaxed against the door frame, feeling even more excited for the night to come. 

* * *

Fitz liked listening to Jemma talk.

She had an excited, flighty sort of voice, which rose and fell with each new idea she expressed. And the Christmas lights which lined the street only added to the glimmer which naturally lit up her eyes. 

“...I felt the essay questions on Professor Taylor’s final were far too simplistic, especially considering the content of the semester.” As Simmons’ ranted, the tip of her nose grew rosy in the cold air. She was not half so bundled up as Fitz. “I had them both completed in under twenty minutes, and I believe the rest of the class was not too far behind me. I understand that it was his first year teaching here, but I expected more from a former forensics agent who served under Fury!” 

Despite her exasperated tone, Fitz could not help but smile softly at his friend. Only she would be complaining that a final was too  _ easy _ . 

“But I suppose I should be grateful for the break, as Professor Clive’s final was hardly lacking in its demand for detail. You took Clive’s class last semester, right?”

“Hm?” Fitz shook himself out of his daze with a puff of warm breath from his nose. “Oh, uh, yeah, and I completely agree. Took me the full three hours.”

“It did it in two.” She replied absentmindedly, without a trace of boastfulness. 

“‘Course you did.” 

The two rounded the corner of the icy sidewalk and approached the book store. 

“What are you hoping to find?” asked Jemma.

“Don’t know. Just thought I’d look around. Maybe a gift for my mum.”

“That’s sweet.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I probably won’t buy anything, but I would like to take a look at their antique book selection.”

When they reached the door, Fitz’s heart swelled with anticipation. Gently, his mitten-covered fingers curled around the handel and opened it with a symphony of jingling bells. 

Instantly, the two students were bathed in warm light and the smell of cinnamon and cider.

“Oh!” Jemma breathed. 

Fitz stepped reverently through the doorway, before pausing to look around.

Everywhere he looked, there were books. Books of every size, books of every color, encyclopedias and textbooks, science fiction and romance, all illuminated by cozy lighting and completed with the most tempting looking chairs spread throughout the store. At the back, there was a small, spiral starecase with a wooden sign reading, “More adventures upstairs!” and near the front door, a hot kettle of cider and red and green mugs. The source of the music which had previously enticed Fitz was a player piano in the corner of the store, from which gentle Christmas tunes floated. 

From behind the checkout counter, an older woman with round glasses on the tip of her nose greeted them and encouraged them to look around, “From now until Christmas, any book with a red or green cover is 25% off!” 

They thanked her enthusiastically, before moving deeper into the store.

“Fitz, it’s beautiful!”

Nodding in agreement, he looked over his shoulder and returned her beaming grin. Seeing her reaction only added to the Fitz’s own enjoyment; Jemma had an infectious smile. They wandered, looking as awestruck as two kids in a toystore. There was a record section, which Fitz silently noted to explore for his mum (she loved her turntable) and a children’s section, decorated with antique toys and an old fashioned Christmas tree trimmed with popcorn and cranberry strings. Off of the encyclopedia and informative book section was a small den, where a fire crackled and plush sofas stood in a circle, occupied by strangers who seemed to be engrossed in their books. Despite all of the wonderful places to explore, Fitz and Simmons found their way almost unconsciously to the classics section. There, they stood before the wall of books and let their eyes roam the shelves. 

“I’ve always loved the smell of books,” sighed Jemma, her gaze unwavering. “They smell like childhood.”

“I totally agree, Simmons.” Stopping on a leather bound copy of The War of the Worlds, he pulled it from the shelf to examine it. “And when you smell a book, you always know you’re about to go on an adventure.”

“Exactly!” 

They continued browsing in silence until Jemma let out an excited, “Ah!” and pulled something from the shelf. After a moment, she breathed out, “Beautiful…”

“What have you got?”

“A simply breathtaking edition of Persuasion by Jane Austen.” 

Looking over her shoulder, he said, “Austen’s my mum’s favorite.”

“Look at this artwork…” Her fingers moved gently over the cover, tracing the threads of gold which accentuated the illustration. Two silhouettes, a man and a woman, stood before a crashing ocean, facing away from each other. The waves of the sea seemed to rise and fall, with lacy foam above and dark shadows beneath. The figures, though minimalist, seemed every bit as alive as the ocean, with the thin golden strands highlighting their hair, and nonexistent wind seemingly drawing them together. “Persuasion has always been my favorite of Austen’s novels...”

“Do you have a copy?”

“I have many copies,” she chuckled, “but they’re all back home. And none of them are as lovely as this one.”

“You ought to buy it.”

“With what? I can hardly go spending money on books that aren’t required for a course. No,” she breathed wistfully, brushing the spine, “I will just have to admire it from afar.” 

Fitz put back the book in his hand and crossed his arms. From behind her curtain of soft brown hair, he could see the expression on his friend’s face: half longing, half hope. Though her brow was crinkled in a distressed line, her eyes shimmered as they took in the object of her desire. $19.99, said the golden sticker on the spine. 

Fitz became overly aware of the feeling of the $20 in his pocket...

“Say, Simmons...that cider smells delicious. How about you, um, you go and get us both a cup, then we can explore upstairs.” 

“Hm?” She looked up at him. “Oh yes, great idea, Fitz.” Reluctantly, she slid the book back onto the shelf before turning to go in search of the drinks. 

As soon as she had gone, Fitz acted fast. He took the book from its perch and marched briskly for the checkout. Luckily, there was no line. 

Placing the book on the counter covertly, he looked around to ensure Simmons was not in sight and whispered. “I’d like to buy this, please. And um, could you put it in one of the festive bags?”

“Of course. That will be $19.99-”

He handed the older woman the bill and told her to keep the change, taking the now bagged book from her hand. Then, he turned and made his way to the classic section as fast as he could without making a scene. 

He had only been there ten seconds before Simmons appeared, holding two mugs of cider. 

“I didn’t know whether or not you liked extra cinnamon, but I added a shake anyway…” Her eyes fell to the bag he hid sloppily behind his back. “Oh, you’ve bought something!”

“Yeah, yeah, just a gardening book for my mum. For Christmas,” accepting the cup she held out, he felt his ears blushing with the lie. 

Nodding, Jemma’s gaze wandered to the shelf which held Austen’s works. 

She was going to see that it was missing! 

“Hey, let’s go upstairs,” exclaimed Fitz, stepping in front of her. 

She looked confused, but agreed and Fitz breathed a silent sigh of relief.

* * *

It turned out, upstairs was far more exciting than Fitz had expected. After climbing the spiral staircase, they found themselves in a cozy room with glass doors which led onto a rooftop terrace. There were small Christmas trees all across the patio, lit with twinkling lights and covered with snow. A fireplace stood at the center, with cushioned benches all around. And it was completely empty, save for the two students.

They sat on either ends of a bench and propped their feet on the bricks of the fireplace to keep warm.

For a few moments, they were both silent as the heat of the fire thawed their numb toes. Then, Jemma looked over and said, “Thank you for letting me come with you, Fitz.”

“Thank you for coming.” He replied, matching her soft smile. “Don’t think I would’ve had half as much fun if I’d come alone.” 

“We’ll have to come again after winter break. I’d love to see this patio in the spring! Imagine it with flowers and leaves…”

At this, the sky began to produce large, fluffy pieces of snow, which floated to the ground like confetti. 

The pair both looked up and watched for a while, paying no mind to the flakes which caught in their lashes and hair. 

“I don’t know, Simmons…” said Fitz, “I think it’s pretty well perfect now.” 

After a moment, he felt Simmons’s moving across the bench. Then, her arm slipped through his elbow and her head was on his shoulder.

For some reason, his heart began to beat faster.

“Is this alright, Fitz? I’m cold.” She explained, grinning apologetically.

“Yeah, no, of course it’s alright. We can go inside if you like-”

“No, I’d like to stay out here.”

Fitz smiled. The pressure of her body against his provided more warmth than the fire in front of them. Despite the nerves in his chest, he felt himself relaxing in her embrace. 

“You know,” said Jemma, “sitting in front of a crackling fire beside a friend; the only thing that would make this better is if I had something to read aloud.” 

Fitz knew that was his cue. His unoccupied arm moved to reach into the bag beside him. However, he froze briefly just before his fingers touched the spine. What if she didn’t actually want it? What if he had misread her casual interest as a deeper desire? What if-

He cut himself off. 

Jemma liked him.

He liked Jemma.

The book would make Jemma happy.

It was as simple as that.

Holding his breath, he pulled the book from the bag and handed it unceremoniously to his friend. 

“Fitz, what-”

“Merry Christmas, Jemma.”

Pulling her arm from his, she cradled the book in both her hands and looked it over, mouth slightly open. 

“I saw how much you liked it…” Fitz carried on nervously. “And I thought, um, you may as well have a copy for your dorm here.”

Still, she stared.

“And I, um, I didn’t see anything for my mum, so I thought I might as well...might as well buy something, to support a local business…” 

Finally, Jemma spoke, her voice careful, “I didn’t get you anything.”

He shrugged, blushing. “S’okay. You got me a present just by coming here with me.”

At this, Jemma finally tore her eyes from the gift. They were glimmering with a tender delight that washed him with relief. “Thank you!”

He nodded.

And before he knew what was happening, Jemma had leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek (as if he was not blushing enough already!) 

“Oh Fitz, thank you!” She exclaimed again, once more looking down at the book. 

Again, he nodded, lifting a hand to itch his cheek where her lips had brushed. The kiss rushed through him like hot cider, filling him from head to toe with warmth and an overwhelming affection for his friend. 

“Alright, settle in, Fitz, because we must read the first three chapters tonight. I want to read at least until Captain Wentworth appears. Maybe longer, depending on what time the shop closes…” 

Grinning, Fitz relaxed into the soft bench and let Jemma recline against him, her shoulder overlapping his. Soon, the patio was filled with the muffled fall of snow and the rise and fall of Jemma’ voice. 

“ Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, comments are always very appreciated. Happy holidays!


End file.
